A Proposition
by twicebornbacchus
Summary: One day Fumma knew he'd finally be able to get in contact with Yuuko again and move on, leave the Tower ku to struggle to live in this unforgiving environment – but not today. Today, he was hunting. Fuuma/Kamui, before the events of the Acid Tokyo arc.


After the first three men had been found dead, their throats slashed open and bodies drained of blood, Fuuma had instructed the people of his ku not to go out into the ravaged desert alone or at night. He'd been stuck in Tokyo for more than a year now (or was it a year and a half? Two years? It was hard to keep track – time was a relative thing to a traveler of worlds) and had been thrust into a position of responsibility among them. One day he knew he'd leave them; one day he'd finally be able to get in contact with Yuuko again and move on, leave them to struggle to live in this unforgiving environment – but not today.

Today, he was hunting.

_What _he was hunting, he didn't know for sure; his first thought was that some sort of mutated animal had taken to coming too close to the Tower's boundaries, preying on its people…but animals left tracks, or signs – droplets of dried, splattered blood on the rocks, sand shoved aside from the weight of a dragging tail…this animal, if indeed it was an animal, had left no signs other than the corpse it left behind.

And _that, _Fuuma thought, was the most telling of all: animals _ate. _His prey wasn't interested in eating.

_No, _he thought, the desert wind rippling his cloak as he rode out into the sunset, _it's thirsty…_

The sky was turning a deep red, the color of rich, spilled wine just as the bike's motor made a croaking sound; smoke suddenly plumed up from the tail end. _Overheated, _he reasoned; the bikes sucked up sand inadvertently, damaging the interior engine over time. He brought his motor bike to a halt to give it time to cool off and stared up at the sky, shivering; the desert could get cold at night. After a forth body had been found a week and a half ago, he'd made sure no one went anywhere without telling him first. His extra precautions had worked; there had been no more causalities, but last night, as he made his rounds, Fuuma had found the first sign that told him to be worried: thin cuts, etched with scalpel-like precision into a rock not a mile from the Tower. The slashes started out thin, then deepened, as if the creature that had carved them had done so furiously, with gathering momentum and frustration. Whatever it was, it was _angry _and hungry.

_Thirsty, not hungry, _he corrected himself. _Or is it the same thing?_ Fuuma sighed, leaning against the bike. _I really got a raw deal on this one, _he thought. Yuuko's jobs came with their own set of problems, unique to each world…but not being able to move on was steadily dragging at his spirits. And now, the thought of being stuck in a world with vampires…

_Don't jump to conclusions – what would your brother say?_ Fuuma kicked his bike absently. "My brother would be thrilled." He grinned a little at that; it was true, after all. Once, after years of traveling separately, he'd run into Seishiro in the same world…a Seishiro who was the same age as when they'd last separated. Fuuma had listened to his story of the vampire twins he'd met – one with green eyes (_Subaru, he'd called him, _Fuuma remembered) and another with violet eyes (_Kamui…Seishiro said he was strong_). Wherever the two were, he was certain that Seishiro wasn't far behind, but that was no matter to him – Fuuma had drank in the details of what Seishiro had learned about vampires, always eager to avoid as many life-threatening situations as possible as he moved from world to world. He believed now that everything was possible, anything could exist…and that all signs pointed to vampire activity in Tokyo.

Fuuma sighed and tried to start the bike up again; no dice. It petered into a half start and then gave up on itself, falling to the ground. He kicked it as hard as he could for good measure and cursed at the pain in his foot.

"Shit!" It was growing steadily darker; the red of the sunset had darkened into a poisonous burgundy, dark indigos pooling at the top of the sky as the first signs of night began to close in. _Not that it matters, _he consoled himself; _remember what Seishiro told you – sunlight doesn't do anything to vampires, that's just wishful thinking; you're in just as much danger in sunlight as at night, so your situation isn't any worse. So cheer up! You're not that far out, you can walk back to the Tower…just avoid the snakes. And everything else._

"I really want to get out of this world." Fuuma shoved his hands in his pockets, felt the comforting weight of his pistol, and began walking. It'd be long after nightfall before he'd be back inside the Tower, but at least he could say he'd completed the most thorough rounds of the perimeter of their territory as possible…

"And by foot!" He mentally patted himself on the back for still keeping a sense of humor in such a desolate world; his humor was growing darker, to be sure, but he still had it.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking when he heard the sound; the sun had slipped below the horizon, but the night had yet to plunge him into blackness. Caught in the murky world of dusk, Fuuma heard the faint whisper of a pebble slide in the dirt.

He froze, hand closing tight around the pistol; it wasn't his imagination. That was another thing Seishiro had taught him: don't ever second guess your instincts. That was a lesson Seishiro had taught him personally…a lesson that helped him realize he could never trust Seishiro. Not completely.

The sound came again, faint, from a different direction. _It's moved – fast. _Fuuma turned sharp on his heel, not in the direction the sound had come, but from where it had yet to be – wherever it was going.

_There…_ The ground sloped up ahead where two cracked bolders met, casting dark shadows in front and behind them. Whatever was up ahead evidently thought he was stupid enough to walk right toward it. Fuuma grinned a little; _Seishiro had said vampires were smart – at least I know it's not a vampire._

But it _was _a person…and that surprised him a little and angered him more. Something human was standing, its form hidden beneath a cloak, in the swiftly darkening shadows. _An attacker from another ku, then…_

It happened too fast for his mind to register; he acted on instinct alone, dropping to his knee as the figure shot forward – _fast _– and bringing his gun up in one fluid motion, firing two shots. One shattered a chunk of the rock behind them; the other found its mark in the shoulder of the outstretched hand that had been slicing through the air, aiming for his throat.

The attacker stumbled back wordlessly, collapsing. Fuuma stood and watched the cloak shift as its wearer curled up, clutching at the wound. He couldn't quite see the blood in the gray dusk, but he could smell it.

Fuuma advanced; _two shots…and only one hit. He's good. _He'd never missed before; curiosity got the better of him, conquering his instinct.

He leaned down and wrenched off the cloak, tossing it to the wind.

Violet eyes stared up at him, seething with hate.

That gaze almost knocked the wind out of him; he stood, amazed, and tried to think of how many people in the world – no, in _all the worlds – _had eyes like Seishiro had described. _It's a coincidence, _he thought, but even as he thought it, even as he stared down at the boy who was clutching his shoulder and _hissing _at him, Yuuko's voice was ringing in his head: _there is no such thing as coincidence._

_ Rule number one, _he thought, _don't ever let anyone find out what you know. If he really is the same Kamui…he doesn't need to know that you already know. _Fuuma kneeled down next to the boy.

"Hi there." He smiled a little too affably. "Looks like I shot you. Can I take a look?"

"_Get...away…_"

Fuuma couldn't remember a time when someone had sounded so angry at him; he was generally well-liked.

"Okay then."

The boy was fast, but weakened with hunger. _That's probably why you heard him at all, _he thought. With one hand Fuuma grabbed the pale wrist that was clutching the wounded shoulder, pulling it away and forcing it to the ground above the boy's head. He tried to struggle against, eyes flashing with fury, but there was something feeble and almost pathetic in it. Fuuma reached down with his other hand and touched the wound, pressing into it.

The boy cried out, dark hair pressing into the dirt as his body wreathed away from him.

Fuuma sighed; he'd never really regretted hurting anyone before – not, at least, if he'd been attacked first, but…something inside of him was being pulled, tugged in a strangely unfamiliar way. Yuuko had once warned him about this, about meeting people he'd recognize, but he had never seen this boy before in his world or any of the other worlds he'd been to. He was someone new, and yet…

And yet, as he pressed his fingers in deeper and watched the agony in the boy's face, Fuuma felt regret. The bullet had shattered the ball socket, tearing through some of the most intricate bones in his body; he'd most likely never regain the use of his arm again. He didn't know _who _this boy was…but somewhere, in some other world, he was certain there was another him, someone who shared his same soul, who did. Someone who would have never pulled the trigger. Maybe his certainty came from a new instinct he'd developed in all his travels through dimensions; maybe it was just a feeling so powerful it was permanently imprinted in his soul.

_Yuuko didn't tell me it would feel quite like this…_ He frowned and pulled away, wiping the slick blood against his cloak.

"Stay still," he ordered. "Let me help you. I can –"

The pain registered before reality did; he should have never let go of the boy's wrist.

Fuuma stared down at his side; three long, thin claws had extended from the tips of the boy's fingers, piercing him. Violet eyes glared at him with utter loathing as he fell backwards, feeling those knives slip out of him. _Same Kamui then, _he thought, amazed at it his own stupidity.

Blood welled up as he clutched at the wound. _Forget it, _he thought, _shoot – shoot him! _

The feeling from before kept his hand still; he watched, amazed, as the boy sat up now. _No, there's no such thing as a coincidence, _he thought, clutching at the heat that was draining from his body. _Good news, big brother…I think I found what you were looking for._

Kamui stood up, a svelte, slender form full of contempt. Fuuma watched from the ground as he shoved at his shoulder. Something popped back into place with a sickening wet sound, and then a small thud resounded as a bullet fell out of his flesh, colliding with the rock below. _Vampires heal extraordinarily fast, _Seishiro had warned him.

_I'm a real idiot._ He tried to smile again as Kamui approached. "Well, this is a bad turn of events for me," he tried, but his air was cut off; Kamui kicked him swiftly in the side, crushing his hands into the wounds.

Fuuma fell back, gasping. _Two! _He thought, his mind racing; _Seishiro said there were twins…but there's only one here…you may be lucky yet, hold on, get up, it's just you and him…_

But he couldn't. A lithe body came toward him, straddled him, holding him down; Fuuma was suddenly frozen, disbelieving the sudden warmth and closeness of that other.

Fuuma gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain. "Well, this might not be such a bad turn of events after all… if you're thinking what I'm thinking."

"_Shut up_." Kamui hissed at him again, leaning down now, close to his ear, soft tongue licking at his throat –

Fuuma jerked upward as Kamui's fangs sank into his flesh like twin needles; he hadn't thought to ask Seishiro if it hurt to be bitten by a vampire, as he had no intention of ever being bitten by one (and he had a strong suspicion that if Seishiro ever felt hungry, he might turn to his younger brother for…nourishment), but the pain faded quickly into a dull ache.

"…Stop…" Fuuma gritted his teeth as Kamui bit harder; he could feel the boy drinking him, the strange sensation of bleeding without getting covered in his own wet, hot lifeblood. Kamui's lips pressed close to his skin, drawing it into himself almost lovingly, sometimes lifting just enough to bite down harder, deeper, to experience _more…_

Fuuma could feel his body growing cold; it started in his toes and fingertips, spreading through his legs, arms… He knew Kamui had no intention of stopping, that these were his last moments…And yet, somehow, it felt alright, like something deep in his soul was clicking into place in a way he couldn't understand. Maybe it was karma – maybe somewhere another Kamui had died to save another Fuuma, and this was just the universe's way of balancing things out…

He didn't know where he found the strength, but still he brought his arms up, sliding them over Kamui's back, wrapping him into an embrace.

The effect was instantaneous; Kamui froze, body like a taunt panther, and Fuuma heard the hiss of words in his ears.

"_What do you think you're doing?_"

"I… don't know," he answered truthfully. The thinness of his own voice surprised him; he blinked slowly up at the night sky – yes, it was too dark, and it wasn't the desert that was cold…

"Let go of me."

"This might…this might be my only chance…to hold you." Fuuma grasped him tighter, feeling more blood flow out of his side and leak from the wounds in his neck.

Kamui grunted in fury; sharp fangs dug into his neck again, drinking furiously, then wrenched away just as suddenly. He sat up, folding his arms across his chest, glaring down at him; Fuuma's hands fell limply at his sides. He smiled up at the vampire, waiting for a final slash across his throat to end his life.

Kamui sat, violet eyes staring into his.

"You're from the Tower?"

"….yea…" _Keep him talking, buy yourself some time… _He thought. _Time for what? To bleed to death? Wait, no, now's not the time to be pessimistic, Fuuma; keep it together, think on your feet…or back…_

"Did you know I was here? Is that why no one has been going out much?"

"…guessed…as much…" The pain in his side was lessening, a troubling sign; his whole body was growing numb and cold now, not just his limbs. "…your ku…they don't know…?"

Kamui stared at him levelly, as if disbelieving that a mere human was asking him a question, sizing him up. _You might think I'm stupid, Kamui…that's fine. It works better that way. You can't survive in Tokyo without shelter, so you're feeding away from the ku you're staying with so they don't turn on you. Glare at me all you want, but it's not hard to figure out._

It seemed a long while before Kamui spoke again. "Some do. Some don't."

"…So you can't…eat there…" A weak grin spread across his face; he'd figured it all out…just a little too late. Seishiro would have been one step ahead; where it counted, Fuuma had been one step behind.

"I usually don't feed on humans. I feed on…something else. Something I can't get in this…place."

Dull as the world was growing, Fuuma's mind was racing, picking up the pace. He was one step behind before, true – but he intended to come out ahead. _He said 'I' – not 'we.' He's alone…his twin isn't here, and he can't get his typical food – great, I'm a food substitute – in this world…but he didn't say 'world.' He doesn't know that I'm a traveler, too…which means he doesn't know who I am._

"Why do you keep grinning like that?" Kamui's eyes were like two cold, chipped amethysts burning with derision.

Fuuma tried to shrug, but his body didn't respond. He could feel, as if from very far away, the boy's weight shift in his lap. He wished he had more of his senses about him; he would have loved to enjoy being straddled by that wild, dangerous boy, to sweep him off him, crush him beneath him, and kiss him.

_Now why did I just think that? Yuuko, you and I need to have a long, long chat…_

"Wake up." Kamui's voice was sharp, demanding. Fuuma hadn't realized his eyes had begun to close when the boy leaned down, licking at the wound on his neck. He felt the soft tongue slide along his skin and thought _oh hell, I can't make him any more angry at me _and used the very last ounce of his strength to lift his head up just enough to catch that mouth, kissing him.

The blow sent Fuuma's head falling back against the ground, the world swimming, a stupid grin on his face; at least he could die happy.

Angry before, Kamui now straddled him, smoldering with indignation and disgust. His eyes were positively _burning _with contempt.

"…staying…to watch me die…?"

Kamui snarled at him, but didn't reply.

Fuuma could feel consciousness slipping away. "…proposition…"

"What?"

"…A proposition…for you…"

It was hard to speak, to concentrate, even when his life depended on it. Kamui rose, yanking away his cloak in fury; what little warmth it had provided Fuuma was wrenched away. Strong, graceful hands lifted away his shirt, licking at the wounds they had inflicted. Fuuma could hear cloth being torn, feel Kamui angrily shoving the material under and over him, wrapping the wound.

"Shut up," he snapped. "And wait. Stay awake. If you fall asleep, you'll die."

"…thanks…for the warning…" Fuuma lay there as the hours passed in silence, as his heart struggled to pump not enough blood through his veins, his bones aching in their cores with the effort to make more. Kamui remained seated next to him, a still, dark form radiating his anger at the world. _What's he got to be so angry about? _Fuuma wondered. _It's not like he's stuck in this world like me…or maybe he is…maybe we're both stuck…_

"Can you sit up?"

Fuuma opened his eyes; dawn was beginning to break. He'd made it through the night, his mind drifting in an out of inky pools of darkness; where had the hours gone?. He tried to move, but no; his body was still too weak from the bloodloss.

"Nope," he answered. His voice wasn't as strong as he'd like, but he could speak now, his mind clear. "…Listen…my name is Fuuma."

"I don't care what your name is."

"That's too bad…I'd really like to know yours…" It would be awkward if he called him 'Kamui' without the boy first _telling _him his name; _awkward? Hell, he'll kill me._

Fuuma was growing used to that angry, pointed silence. He smiled and continued. "I'm the leader of the Band of the Tower. You can't feed on them…I'll protect them from you."

Kamui's silent gaze fell upon him again. "Not if I kill you."

"If they find me dead, they'll assume the worst. If you think they're being cautious now, with me gone…"

He watched as Kamui scowled, glaring up into the sky; _his anger is making him stupid. _Fuuma tried not to look as smug as he felt; if Kamui was angry that the Tower folk would be more cautious of him…_then he's limited to hunting in a certain area. He won't travel far, so the most likely place he's taken up residence is at…the Government building._

The darkness was lifting, slowly being replaced by softer blues and the barest, faintest promise of the sun.

"…So…a proposition…" Fuuma felt that icy gaze turn back to him, studied Kamui's now blank, impassive face, and felt confident he had a shot at living another day. "Me."

"What about _you_?"

"Leave the Tower people alone…you can feed off me. No one else needs to get hurt."

Surprise flickered in those cold eyes; he'd been taken off guard. "I'd have to leave you alive to produce blood for me. I'd have to be a fool. You'd never –"

"I promise." Fuuma's façade fell away; he stared at him with utter seriousness. "I would come back. No one needs to know – my people, or yours. Just us."

Kamui shifted, thinking. "…Why?"

"It's a good solution." It was a perfect, easy lie; _successful lies lack details, _he thought. "I get to live, you get to eat, no one else has to die."

Something of Seishiro flickered in Fuuma's eyes, something that Kamui didn't notice, as he thought _and I get to touch you again – and next time, it'll be on my terms. Not like this…and I'll make sure of it._

Languid eyes blinked at him. Finally, Kamui spoke.

"Can you sit up yet?"

Fuuma struggled up, pushing himself against a rock. The world spun in a whirlpool of blues and yellows. He clutched at the dirt for support.

He felt his head lifted; Kamui had moved, swift and silent, grasping his hair, yanking his head up to stare into his pupils. Fuuma grinned again; Kamui was all confidence now, in control – _he doesn't know who he's dealing with. He'll be in big trouble next time…_

Kamui observed him carefully, then let his head fall away, rising. "I drank too much this time." It wasn't anywhere near an apology, just a quiet, dispassionate explanation. "…I've been very…empty. Thirsty. Next time I won't take anywhere near as much. You'll be fine."

"You might want to," Fuuma chided. "You won't believe the trouble I can get into when I'm not bleeding to death…"

Kamui make a sound of disgust and turned away. "Once a week," he snapped. "Right here. Come alone." He swept up his cloak from the ground, shrouding himself, and was off, a dark form moving impossibly fast against the rising dawn.

Fuuma watched him go, smirking.

"See you then…Kamui."

**Author's Note: Doesn't their backstory just drive you nuts? You can tell that an entire story unfolded behind the scenes with Fuuma, Kamui, Seishiro, Subaru, and Yuuko, too, before we even end up in Acid Tokyo – it just kills me that we're dropped into the middle of **_**that**_**. Ah well, nothing to be done about it except write fics! I'm sort of just kicking this idea around, so I may or may not continue it. I felt like just getting this scene out of my head, but I could imagine this going back and forth a bit; it would be fun to do the next encounter from Kamui's perspective, I think. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought! **


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